I HATE I HATE I HATE THIS TIME OF THE MONTH BECAUSE I BLOAT LIKE A CRAZY MOFUCKER AND ITS GROSS. 136, WHAT THE FUCK. I'm so angry. Fucking sarah made me eat chocolate and I couldnt say no because if I did shed call me like, anorexic again. FUCKSHIT I HATE MYSELFS WEIGHT

So, im doing just a little bit better, i'm not going to lie to you. Becuase I got 133.2 today. If I keep re-losing a pound a day, I should be there soon.

A persistent, repetitive, and unwanted thought. Cannot be eliminated by logic or reasoning. Like weight. Or wanting to be someone i'm not. Or wanting everyone to just be happy and not much caring for myself. I can feel myself slipping away, every ounce of self content and every bit of confidence I have ever pretended to have. And I can't even tell anyone, there is noone close enough with me to be able to tell. Everyone has their own issues, their own disorders to deal with, the result of their neverending hypochondria and need to feel loved. I have managed to keep to myself so far with whatever is in my head and I don't like it. I don't like that friends are taking advantage of my current 'lack of issue' to impose their own.It's not a lack of issue it's just a sign of me growing up, being able to not involve every single person I know in every fucking impending problem. What the fuck.

I'm fucking rotting from the inside out. I can feel my fucking arteries swelling with grease and my stomach slowly inflating and everything growing back and everything growing back and my health deteriorating before my very eyes and my body growing to twice it's size and the rubbing of my inner thighs. I can feel it all expand. I remember loosely fitting pants. I can feel me growing and growing and growing and slowly becoming the person I was before and I can feel the food and the drinks and the sugar and the calories. I can feel the calories slowly getting tabulated in the back of my brain and the fat setting up camp for permanent storage. I can feel the strong sense of failure that comes with fucking up this badly even though I said I wouldn't care. I said I wouldn't care but I knew I had to be lying. I can't stay keen on anything, I always fall out of anything that's good for me. I should not be acting like this. I should not be letting myself grow. I should be making me better. I WANT to be better. So why can't I get better? Because I can't fucking contain myself. I can't contain myself at the sight of fried chicken. Ic an't contain myself faced with ELEVEN CHICKEN WINGS. I can't contain myself around candy bars. And it's not like it was only one, it was two. I can't contain myself around pork chops. I can't contain myself around WHITE BREAD and PEANUT BUTTER and CEREAL. What the fuck is wrong with me? How do I not see these things coming as i'm shoveling food into my mouth? Why listen to my stomach when I know that my mind is not going to let me down for it? Why eat when I'm going to see the response in the mirror a mere few minutes later? What the fuck am I doing with myself? Trying to get obese? I AM GOING TO BE OBESE. I AM GOING TO BE ONE FAT FUCK. BECAUSE I AM NOT LOSING WEIGHT ANYMORE, I'M BARELY EVEN BALANCING, BECAUSE I KEEP FUCKING UP. I KEEP FUCKING MYSELF OVER. I KEEP INDULGING WHEN I FUCKING KNOW EXACTLY HOW IT'S GOING TO FEEL, EXACTLY HOW IT'S GOING TO MAKE ME FUCKING FEEL DIRTY MINUTES IF NOT SECONDS AFTERWARDS. EVEN MY MOM SAYS IM CONTINUOUSLY EATING, AND THIS LADY KNOWS EVERYTHING, IF SHE SAYS SO, IT MUST FUCKING BE TRUE. I CAN FEEL MY THIGHS. THEIR ALL FUCKING WARM. SO IS MY STOMACH. THEIR GROWING. GROWING GROWING AS WE SPEAK. STORING THE FAT IN MY SYSTEM. STORING THE FUCKING FAT WHERE IT WILL NEVER EVER COME AWAY. I'M STUCK WITH IT FOREVER. I AM GOING TO BE FAT FOREVER. AND EVER AND NOONE IS GOING TO LOVE ME. BECAUSE I AM A TUB OF LARD. I AM A DIRTY FUCKING TUB OF LARD AND NOT EVEN MEN OF AN EQUIVALENT CALIBUR WILL WANT TO HAVE ME. FUCKSSAKES I CAN FEEL THE FAT CONGEALING.

Every once in a while, I deserve to go off on a tangent. I am PROUD of myself for getting to this point, but even more so, I am DISSAPPOINTED that I fucked up halfway through the game. I understand that I am UPSET because of the robbery last week, and I truly believe I have license to do so. But my diet has suffered because of it. I think that that's terrible. I have lowered down my intake to 900 calories a day plus a workout as many days as possible, i'm hoping that that will soon do some kind of differnece. I have Rocky Horror tryouts on Sunday, and I am SO EXITED for it, but I feel like I look like shit. I feel gross. I am COMPLIMENTED because everyone keeps taking notice to the tremendous weight loss that has accumulated to 25 pounds, but I know I need more improvement, I want to be 127 and feel good around the waist. I know that losing weight will do nothing for my ugly face, but at least I will feel a little bit better about my body as a part of me. I SYMPATHIZE with all the famous stars that get caught up into eating disorders, same as anorexic girls, because it's true, once someone compliments you enough you feed off of it instead of actual food. I'm HAPPY i'm on an actual diet and eating in a healthy fashion because If I wasn't I would probably be eating very little and doing everything I could to compensate for the remaining weight. I'm happy I don't. I'm also GLAD that I wrote this, it makes me feel like I can cope. I HOPE that tomorrow I will be able to continue along with the diet, off with the distraction of today and the 2 dinners (large sigh: muffin for breakfast, chicken rwrap for lunch, soup, turkey wrap and crackers for supper 1, then 2 cereal bars, THEN a grilled cheese and 2 more soups, oh my god. It's gross, I know). Eurgh. Eurgh. Eurgh. I am CONFIDENT that it will get better.

So, I got into Dawson, i'm pretty happy. I've been sick for the past few days, but i'm feeling better as of now. Better because I have a couple things I have to do tomorrow or else they'll drag onto next week. My eating habits have been shit, yesterday I had garlic bread and today I had half a piece of pizza. I have decided to make myself rules, that way, I can actually say "this is wrong" or "I knew better" because it'll be in writing. I'mna do that now. The Thin Commandments 1. Thou shall not indulge at the spur of the moment. 2. Though shall ask oneself permission before eating. 3. Thou shall not binge eat in times of trouble or intoxication. 4. Thou shall not consume with the intention to simply fill without acknowledging the intake, at any time. 5. Thou shall not gain weight. 6. Thou shall take examples from those who have succeeded, and not from those who have never managed to improve themselves. 7. Thou shall not devellop an eating disorder. 8. Thou shall always retain the air of normalcy. 9.Thou shall not postpone guilt or consequence. 10. Thou shall consume large amounts of water. I also made a list of things I can't eat, which will be added on to as I go along, but for now: -chocolate. -candy. -white bread. -pastries. -sugary drinks. - anything with high fat content. **avoid pasta at all costs. Yep, thats it.

Hurrah, kids. I'm working on the weightloss antics, just you weight and see. Oh shit, i'm so clever. Rocky Horror auditions in 2 weeks. I am way exited. Also, MOntreal live aid is coming up. If you're interested, let me know.

So something in me has decided to not give up, for some reason, to improve myself, even though the only person worth doing it for is me. That's a good thing actually. I have more weight to lose, obveously. I'm going to see how much weight I can lose in a week by following the pro-ana antics, just to see how right on these stupid anorexoHo's are. It might be an interesting experiment. I'm sick and tired of teenage antics. I'm sick of waking up every day with the same bullshit issues, I'm sick of waking up every day feeling like shit. I'm sick of trying to make myself pretty and failing. I'm sick of caring about people who do not give two shits about me. I'm sick of pretending. I'm sick of pretending that i'm not worth anything, because, as of now, I am. I am worth what I do with myself and in the end this fucking stupid transitional period will not matter at all. I will not care about being sixteen and I will not care about graduating high school and I will not care about having shitty clothes and I will not care about surrounding myself with the wrong people and I will not care that I was just another booty call. I will care about being thirty and my occupation and my material goods and the family that will make me happy and the friends that I will have replaced the old ones with and the lover that I chose to have.

My great aunt died today. I didn't cry or anything, I didn't really see the need. I didn't know her very well and while I'm sad, I don't have to cry. I've done enough crying to last me a lifetime. I'm especially sad because she died unhappily. She died while she was fighting with her daughter, something that isn't going to leave her daughter (who is, unfortunatley, terminally ill and only has a few months left to live) until she dies herself. Whcih is another sad thought. I see a lot of death coming in the near future. I feel sick because my eating habits keep fluctuating. It's like, it's the only thing in my physical appearance that I can personally control, so why can't I keep a handle on it anymore? Eurgh. I'm gonna fix that, i'm working on it. In good news, cousins are coming down this week. And i'm getting my hair done. So yep. Happy me.

12 years old, and she wants to die. But so did I. I don't know why. Our dad is gone, but back today. It's no big deal. He goes away. Then he comes home. And we're all great. It’s just for work. So it’s okay. But she's upset. There's no mistake. 12 years old, she bleeds to cry. But so did I. I don’t know why. She doesn’t talk, It’s all inside. She thinks I’m nuts, But won’t say why. She’s really sweet, But really shy. She thinks we’re fucked, But knows we try. She lives a dream. It’s all a lie. 12 years old, living hellish lies. But so did I. I don’t know why. I broke your heart. It’s broken still. I broke my skin And ate the pills. I pulled them down. Until I was filled. You saw me then In for the kill. And now it shows. You’ve still got guilt. 12 years old, you’re barely a teen. But still your thoughts are so obscene. I don’t know why you want to die. But so did I. I fucked you up. I don’t know why. I fucked us up. And now I cry. I ask what’s up. And so you lie. You want to die. But so did I. You want to die. I don’t know why.

goal. before nyc. you shall see, kids. i'm going strict. no pastries. no sauces. no pasta (if i can help it) lots of chicken broth. nothing snacky with more than 3 grams of fat, at max. 1/3 glass of milk a day 8 glasses of water.

Okay, so I had a pretty alright weekend, I must admit. After originally getting blown off, Jenna Michelle and I went down to drugstore and got bored but intoxicated. That was fun. And then I worked last night. My mom walked into the store as I was going out for a smoke. She asked me if I was going out for a smoke, and I said yes. Then she said "No, you're not." And that was that. I'm pretty bored right now. But i'm kind of happy, because I've hit the -20 pound mark. I should be happy- but i'm not. All I can think about is how 10 more pounds would make me feel so much better, and so much less obese. This isn't fair. I'm glad I didn't have much to do this weekend. And next weekend is the principals ball. woohoo.

I'm not going to the principals ball. Every dress I tried on made me look like a cow. I don't want to give me or anyone else any more of a reason to see me as a dirty piece of ass. I stood in front of the mirror naked, and all I kept thinking was fuck, look at these legs. Look at these grossly obese legs. I could feed an entire african nation with the exess meat on one of my legs. I'm banting all of that gross shitty calorie infested food. Til i'm 125, at minimum, 130. I'm ruining myself, stupid fucking body. I am so gross. It is so gross.

So,uh, i'm freaking out. I started eating normally again (because people have been on my ass) and i'm back up to 144. I feel and look like shit. I'm going back on my hardcore diet, and those who think it's an issue, can fuck themselves. Because losing weight makes me happy. Gaining it abck makes me want to wrip out my hair. :) School is being a bitch. Honestly. But I got a lucky break today, with my art teacher not being there to pick up the project i didn't do, so i'm happy. I like work a lot. More than school.

I aspire to be a junkie Like those kiddies on the tv Making something out of nothing Doing anythnig for something Anything that I can try once Becomes something that i'll do twice Fucking drug dealers for goods Being bad and only half nice I aspire to be a model All those pretty girls with bodies Filled with cheap and marijuana Because everybody want's to Take a ride on a superstar Buy her dinner, buy her car Size 2, 5''2, no dice Think twice, size 2, 5'10 Suddenly she's heaven sent I aspire to be whatever Why don't you just tell me what? I aspire to be whatever A junkie or a dirty slut. Whatever you want me to be Noone cares if i'm just me. The world is strange and so I am I Drugs are great so let's get high Beauty and weight are defined Perfect figure, I'll never get Never walk on to a movie set Never need and that's okay Never need your dirty ways Never need your brand new car Never want a superstar Never hold a needle high Never make the people buy Never be anybody's death Simply, im's a waste of breath. And that's okay cuz i'm alive. I'm alive. I'm alive. I'm alive.

"I'll be alone, dancing you know it, baby" I'm not even going to think about food today. All I know is, i'm going to probably cry tomorrow, thinking about it. I bought pants today, and some shirts, it was fun. I went to the cage with my mom and watched football- a place I thought i'd never have to go, a sports bar, yet some how thats the second night this week i've gone. The first time was fun, I had lots of smirnoff and french fries. The second time was a bloating experience. Next weekend Todd is coming! And I'm going to Saphir! Fuckingyes, I love it. I need to be way under 140 by next weekend. Lots of chicken broth, and work. Yeeees.

It's like I have two brains, one with common sense, and one that sees reality. The one with common sense is saying, "Dana, you're hungry, eat something, because you don't want to end up like those stupid little anorexic girls." The other one waits until after I eat, and then in turn says, "You could never be pretty like those tiny girls, because you're fat."

"I'm happy knowing i'm the prettiest girl in the room." How is that not supposed to make one feel insignificant and like shit, when you're the only other girl in the room? How do you react when you know you're the ugly contributing to the atmosphere? The fat and ugly girl, i'll always be. And I wonder why people hate me. And why I hated life for so long.

140.8 thats more like it. but not quite. half bagel apple chips apple melbatoast. pasta with veggies apple french fries I keep fucking up. Jesus.

144.8 fuck.